


curiosity killed the cat (but satisfaction brought it back)

by sinntowin



Series: endless curiosities [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Breeding, Cock Warming, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Felching, Fingering, Kinda, Knotting, Love Bites, M/M, Making Out, Mating, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Milking, Neck Kissing, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Scent Marking, Scenting, Stiles Stilinski Speaks Polish, Top Peter Hale, just a whole lotta porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinntowin/pseuds/sinntowin
Summary: Stiles notices some changes in his and Peter's relationship - so he calls him out on it (in classic Stiles Stilinski fashion).OrThe one where Stiles tries to call Peter out, and Peter (in classic Peter Hale fashion) turns it into a favorable situation for both of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> sorry it took me so long to post this! I'be literally been working on this since June or something stupid like that, but I have a couple new fics in the works right now, so look forward to them!  
> enjoy, guys!! and dont forget to read my note at the end 0w0

 

Something had changed lately and Stiles had begun to clue in.

He and Peter had been on good terms for a while now, after the whole _ ‘hey, sorry about burning you alive again thing’   _ that Stiles had had to perform in an attempt to make the relationship between them both a little less charged with murderous intent (well, for Peter that more or less transferred to creepy staring and sly comments that definitely sounded more serial killer-y than normal).

They’d even become kind of companionable around each other - Peter would often prefer to be in the same room as Stiles’ when the spark was reading up on magic and scouring the internet for his daily dose of weird internet facts and wikipedia wormholes. At least during those times he was less likely to word vomit all over the place and get on pretty much everyone’s nerves. 

But even during those times, Peter had become a worthy adversary, often meeting Stiles’ sarcasm tit for tat and indulging in witty conversations about subjects that most people in the pack would be at a loss with (not including Lydia, obviously). 

And Stiles would be lying if he said he didn't find Peter attractive, the older man most definitely checked all of the teen’s boxes (is it bad that murderers kinda do it for him?), he definitely had the Hale genes - no other family could touch the Hale’s level of born perfection.

Stiles was probably going to hell for even thinking of this but he really kind of enjoyed entertaining the thought of Peter actually wanting to get all up on this (this being Stiles). But with the older man’s actions as of late, Stiles had suspicions on what was happening. 

It had started with Peter sitting closer on the sofa, their bodies often grazing each other from shoulder to knee, it was rare that Stiles would be in the house without Peter in the same room as him. It had then escalated to passing touches, a hand grazing the back of his neck, the ghost of fingers trailing down his arm. These touches accumulated into hugging and being hugged, Stiles with his feet in Peter’s lap when they sat on the same sofa and when it was pack movie night.

Stiles wasn't quite sure how he had missed all these little things, little things that would seem very out of place just two weeks ago but for some reason seemed perfectly normal now. Peter had acclimated him to his touch so that he wouldn't even bat an eyelid at the blatant werewolf scenting in a very short amount of time, and now that the spark thought about it, it was  _ definitely _ more than a little suspect.

Either way it was disconcerting as all hell and Stiles needed to get to the bottom of this ASAP before he had a mini mental breakdown due to prolonged touchy werewolf induced paranoia.

It was one of the days when the pack was all out of the house doing various pack or couple things, which normally left Stiles (and by extension, Peter) either at the clinic pestering Deaton about magic or at home doing some light reading (read as: a book stack that was only a couple feet high). So as far as Stiles could figure, this was his best chance at a private conversation with the older werewolf. 

Stiles was now perched on the arm of his favourite reading chair, chin in his hand as he blatantly observe Peter, who was currently lounging on a sofa with a battered and well read copy of The Art of War by Sun Tzu which was just - of course Peter would read The Art of War by Sun Tzu. It was just so…  _ Peter. _

Stiles took a slow, steadying breath and got ready to find out things that he most likely really didn't want to know that he had to know regardless. 

“So,” the teen began slowly, licking his lips “I’ve been doing some research lately,” he watched as Peter lazily glanced up from his book and considered him with a slow smile that almost looked  _ fond.  _

“Have you now?” Peter asked, unhurried, not even condescending, but more… purring as his eyes settled on Stiles.

“...Yes?” Stiles silently cursed himself as he sounded more like he was asking a question than giving a definite answer. Peter didn't dignify him with an answer straight away so Stiles barreled on before he could.

“It’s about wolf heat cycles actually - real interesting,” the teen started to babble, he knew he was rambling but couldn't stop as he finally got to speak the words he’d been saving up for a good couple days now, which was definitely some kind of record for his ADHD addled brain.

“Did you know that they normally go into heat around this time of year, so that they have their little squishy puppies in early springtime? And that when the beginning of male wolves’ cycles they start to become more possessive of their mate in preparation for the upcoming mating and that it’s also called winter wolf syndrome?” Stiles could already feel himself start to go red in the face with embarrassment as Peter just continued to watch him with that same fond amusement, but Stiles could swear that the older werewolf’s eyes just got a little darker. 

“What brought on this topic of research, if I may ask?” the bastard just sounded so goddamned amused, not even giving Stiles a proper answer as he continued to study the teen’s face intently.

_ No you may not, no you may not, mayday mayday _ , Stiles’ mind screeched incoherently as his mind immediately balked at the path this conversation was now most likely about to go down as he recognised the lecherous glint in Peter’s eyes. 

“Oh, uh, nothing in particular,” Stiles tried, ready to drop this whole conversation and plan to try again later and hopefully with less badtouchy-ness from Peter’s end, something about that look unsettled the teen and maybe also gave him a bit of a fear boner. But in less time than it took him to blink twice or register what was happening, Peter was suddenly right in front of him, his hot breath puffing across his face.

Stiles promptly starting flailing in surprise and immediately begun a no doubt painful descent to the hardwood floor, only to give a little shocked ‘eep’ when Peter’s arms wrapped around him and brought him up securely to his chest in an effortless princess carry. 

“Where do you think you're going?” the older werewolf asked in a silky murmur, his mouth way too close to the teen’s ear, Stiles could feel humid breath roll across the sensitive shell of his ear in the most strangely intimate way that made his skin rise in goosebumps.  

“Just visiting my good old friend called the floor, you know him? We’re pretty well acquainted, he might even take our relationship to the next level soon considering how often we bang,” Stiles couldn't help but snark as Peter carried over to the couch Peter had previously been sprawled upon and sat down with Stiles on his lap.

The teen hesitantly looked up to see Peter’s expression and gulped when he saw the heat there, and he could swear that his blue eyes held a little of that unnaturally cold blue glow about them. 

Stiles tried to think of a way to attempt to break the tension as the werewolf just continued to stare at him intently, but swallowed again when he only got a warm, slightly rough palm cupping the side of his jaw. He didn't miss how Peter’s eyes immediately caught on the flex of his throat and stayed there, or the way he felt the werewolf’s chest began to rumble a little in a throaty sounding purr where he was pressed against it. 

Aand yep, hello fear boner it’s nice seeing you again. 

“You're right, you know,” Peter’s words caught him off guard; Stiles's breath hitched.

“About what?” The teen played dumb, trying to ignore the rapid beating of his heart and the way that the werewolf’s hands tightened on him in anticipation.

“It’s mating season, but you already knew that, “ his tone was matter of fact and his eyes 'were piercing “Didn't you Stiles?” Peter’s thumb had begun to sweep gently back and forth across Stiles’ jaw and the repetitive motion subconsciously made the human’s tensed muscles relax. 

“I had a hunch,” the breathy tone of his own voice surprised him and his fear boner wasn't all that fear induced anymore, his toes curled at the word ‘mating’.  

“Such a clever boy,” the werewolf cooed, suddenly pressing his face forwards and into the teen’s neck with a low, ravenous sounding growl that shifted into something lower and more guttural, “So perfect for me,” he sighed into his neck, following it up with a long, hot lick up his jugular that made Stiles go boneless, his fingers twitching a little spastically as he fought to regain control of his limbs.

“Perfect?” the teen managed after a few tries, his spine going liquid as Peter mouthed hungrily at his jugular, sucking meanly at Stiles’ pale skin; leaving spit slick bruises in his wake. 

“You don’t even know how perfect you are,” the werewolf agreed lowly, and Stiles felt his spine go even more liquid as a large, elegantly fingered palm slipped under the slightly frayed hem of his t-shirt to wrap around the bare skin of his hip, Peter’s thumb sweeping back and forth and grazing the waistband of his jeans; Stiles’ dick twitched needily in response and the teen could feel his face getting even redder. The scent of his arousal had to be intense and from the look in Peter’s eyes, it probably was. 

“So smart, more than good enough to keep up intelligent conversation with me, not the useless drivel the rest of my nephew’s pack spews on an hourly basis, “ Peter nudged his nose just behind the shell of Stiles’ ear and took a deep inhale “You’re _ fascinating _ Stiles… I can’t wait to take you apart,” another sharp inhale “ _ Take _ you.” The teen’s entire body spasmed when the werewolf brought a slightly clawed wand up to his chest and tweaked a nipple harshly.

_ Of course, _ Stiles thought hysterically,  _ Peter Hale likes me for my conversational skills, me Stiles Stilinski - conversational skills.  _

Then Peter carried on without any prompting, leading the teen to believe the the werewolf might be even more gone than Stiles thought “Your scent too, it’s so much more cleaner,” At this Peter leaned back to look Stiles in the eyes, a sharp toothed smirk on his lips “You’re a virgin, aren't you Stiles?” he cooed and Stiles thought that he could just about die from the embarrassment that Peter was able to  _ smell _ it on him, like it was some kind of tangible thing. And what Stiles hated even more was how he could feel himself  _ clench  _ at the way Peter said it, the parts of himself only he had touched, the blushy and tender place he’d found inside of his body after nights of overeager self exploration.

Peter took Stiles’ silence as an affirmation, the constant rumble in his chest deepening and suddenly Stiles was being carried, the werewolf holding him effortlessly with the teen’s legs wound around the older man’s waist securely. Peter moved smoothly but quickly, not jostling him as he took Stiles… wherever he was taking him.

“Um, you’re not taking me to the woods to like, chase me down like I’m some deer before you - um, do whatever you’re planning to do. Right?” 

“Stiles I may be a werewolf, however I am not an animal,” Stiles waited for the second half of that statement, not trusting Peter to be upfront in the least; Peter continued on with a lecherous smirk “Although, that sounds like a titillating experience - I may have to take you up on your offer,” the older werewolf’s tone made the little hairs at the nape of Stiles’ neck to rise in a way that was both parts arousing and lowkey terrifying.

Instead, much to the Stiles’ relief the werewolf took him to his bedroom, dropping him on his (most likely) stupidly expensive sheets before promptly beginning to take off his own clothes.

Stiles is not ashamed to admit that he ogled the incredibly attractive piece of werewolf in front of him, who would be insane enough not to? Creepy and as eccentric as Peter liked to be, he definitely had the panty dropping Hale Gene ™.

Stiles’ eyes watched the play of bulging muscles across Peter’s skin avidy,  _ god _ he didn't know that muscles could move like that just by pulling off a sweater, this guy was like a walking GQ advertisement. Peter was watching him in a way that made him feel like prey (was it a bit weird to still find that arousing? Stiles was  _ not  _ a cheeseburger - or would that be a cute little fluffy rabbit, by Peter’s standards?), his eyes were faintly backlit with that ghostly blue light that indicated his wolf was close to the surface and Stiles felt his embarrassment increased tenfold as it only made him get harder.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” even Stiles cringed at the lame wisecrack, but damn it how was he supposed to think when he was being looked at like that  _ (still not a cheeseburger, still not a cheeseburger...) _ ?

“Maybe after I’ve made a mess of you,” Peter said it in such an offhand way while sinuously crawling to hover on all fours over the teen just made it twice as terrifying and thrice as hot.

God Stiles was fucked (puns even when he was about to get fucked six ways from sunday, Stiles should get an award for staying so true to himself).

True to his words, approximately two minutes and twenty three seconds later Peter had Stiles laid out on his stomach, ass hitched up obscenely with a pillow, thighs spread while eating him out with a vengeance.

Stiles felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin with the potent mixture of embarrassment and desperate arousal. He felt tender and dripping and the lewd slurping noises that Peter was making didn't make the situation any better. 

He felt so loose and open that Peter could probably slide three or four fingers into him no problem. Just the thought of that was enough for his face to go another shade redder. Stiles’ lower back felt like it was made of liquid, his entire body felt heavy and tingling, his nerves sparking like live wires, sending random spastic twitches through his trembling limbs.

Through his haze of desperate arousal the teen could sometimes decipher the heated mutterings spilling from the werewolf’s mouth, slurred through the heated rimming he was giving Stiles and his elongated canines.

“Such a pretty boy, so sweet just taking it for me, opening up for me so well,” Stiles couldn't choke back his wrecked moans at that, even knowing that Peter wasn't holding back his shift as he lost himself was a whole other kink that Stiles didn't know that he had. 

He could keenly feel the loving nips that Peter placed on his oversensitive rim between the deep swipes of his tongue and hungry sucking that left him feel like he’d been turned inside out.

“Peter,” he wasn't sure if it had come out garbled and keening or not but the werewolf paused for a second to hear him so Stiles carried on in a rush “Please, more -  _ please _ ,”.

The teen could only gasp and curse lowly as Peter chuckled lowly against the fluttering rim of his entrance before suddenly he was being smoothly flipped onto his back, soon finding himself blinking blearily up at a toothily grinning werewolf.

Peter’s mouth looked _ obscene,  _ his lips swollen and red from overuse, Stiles could barely contain the hungry shiver that danced down his spine when he saw two little caps of white peeking out of the werewolf’s panting mouth - evidence of his tenuous hold on his control.

“Watch your pretty mouth, you might find that you've asked for more than your body can handle sweetheart,” the man murmured this even as two of his long dexterous fingers pressed teasingly at his entrance, just the tips slipping in ever so slightly was enough to make Stiles buck into the sensation needily.

God, Stiles needed this. He hadn't realised that all these weeks had been leading to this but now that they 'were here it couldn't come soon enough. All the gentle caressing touches that the teen had accepted so absentmindedly; the subtle scenting; the slow and casual claim that Peter had laid to his body - they’d all been leading to this.

Stiles felt  _ so empty,  _ even with the 'were’s long fingers now reaching into the depths of him, pressing and rubbing and seeking just inside of him. He felt so open and needy, clutching desperately at Peter’s fingers, even as they tapped his prostate hard enough for the air to be punched out of his fluttering lungs. 

Peter made soothing sympathetic noises that went straight to the teen’s cock, made him want to teethe hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder, make as much of a mess there as Peter was making of him. 

“I know pup, just a little longer, you’ll take me so prettily,” Stiles keened at the praise. His lizard brain running solely on instinct and the addictive press of the werewolf’s fingers. Far back in his mind Stiles knew that he was fucking  _ gone _ , something about this Peter was bringing to light parts of the teen that he didn't even know he had, and he couldn't bring himself to shake himself back into normalcy.

Stiles forced his liquid, trembling muscles to force himself up, burying his face just under Peter’s jaw and talking long gasping hits of the werewolf’s scent. Stiles wasn't sure if it was pheremones or not but damn Peter smelt even better than he normally did.    

The 'were’s body wrapped itself even closer to Stiles in response, a fourth finger smoothly slipping in without resistance even though Stiles didn't even remember taking a third. 

Stiles was aware that he was babbling again, little desperate mewls and stuttering, weak repetitions of Peter’s name and what the teen was pretty sure was some pretty filthy Polish expletives saved for only the most dire situations (this probably counted). 

Stiles was pretty sure he was having an out of body experience right now, the 'were’s fingers pressed so deep he swore to god he felt like they were pressing at his stomach. Shivers wracked his body as his prostate was caressed in ways that made the teen’s vision go black around the edges.

The next thing he was aware of was the seeking press of fingers withdrawing much to Stiles’ displeasure, only to rub soothingly around his fluttering rim, the tip of a single finger catching just inside and tugging - testing the give.

“Are you ready pup?” Peter’s voice was unexpectedly rough, more of a growl than actual words that made Stiles’ cock twitch.

“Yeah,” Stiles choked, this breath catching harshly in anticipation as he heard the wet sounds of Peter slicking up his cock and then the too hot press his the head against the his rim.

The 'were pressed himself bodily on top of Stiles, the teen’s body fitting perfectly against the thickly muscled torso of the older man, jumping violently at the sudden sharp pressure of Peter’s teeth at his neck, biting lightly before nipping harshly just as he began to slowly push in. 

His gasp was thick in his throat as he felt his eyes roll with the sudden surge of molten pleasure gushing into his body. Peter held him securely to his body, never once pausing as he hungrily marked up his neck with love bites; Stiles could feel a deep rumble emanating from the werewolf’s chest.

Peter kept the pace of his thrusts even and steady, slowly getting faster and deeper as the minutes went by. In this position all Stiles could do was  _ take, take take _ as the older man finally set a brutal pace full of deep grinding thrusts of his hips interspaced with long, languid strokes that made the teen howl. 

Stiles was at the point that he didn't even care of the rest of the pack came home and heard what they were doing, instead, a small but rapidly growing part of his consciousness even reveled in the thought. It wanted everyone to know what they were doing; this was his claim to the werewolf.

The teen’s eyes had gone sightless, all he could hear was the lewd, wet sounds of their bodies grinding together, the hot press of the 'were’s mouth at his jugular and the dangerous press of his canines. 

When Peter suddenly yanked Stiles off his cock the teen almost wailed in despair, only to be flipped around onto his back before being rudely entered again, leaving him gasping, cock twitching hard at the way he was being taken so unapologetically. 

All of these sensations came together and built and built until it became what felt like a tsunami of sensation, wracking Stiles’ body in a way so different than what he was used to he almost didn’t recognise he was coming until his sweat chafed skin finally registered the sticky, tacky feeling of ejaculate against his and Peter’s abdomens.  

He couldn't help but writhe and twist as the sensation was dragged out unbearably long due to Peter’s constant thrusting, the too hot press of his length dragging unerringly across his prostate every other stroke causing his blood to run both hot and cold at the same time. 

Stiles knew that Peter was talking again, mouthing filthy utterances into his skin but he wasn't quite capable of coherent thought, and just took it as he felt the start of a bugling swell at the base of Peter’s cock begin to form. 

It didn't surprise him (the first couple of distressed phone calls with Scott when he was first turned had been burned into his memory in way that was impossible to just forget), but the way Peter’s hips stuttered in a grind so obscene Stiles felt like he was feeling another orgasm all over again sure did. 

It felt like his senses had tunneled, focused completely on the way the Peter was stuffing him so full he like like he would be split apart. It was filthy and primal and Stiles didn't think there was any going back after this, Peter was carving a space inside of him that no one would ever be able to fill and Stiles didn't want it any other way.

The werewolf’s knot was too big for Peter to thrust properly with anymore, but that didn't seem to be a problem, he pressed their hips closely together and rolled his hips languidly as he gasped, his frame going taut, muscles wracked with telling tremors.

The teen couldn't help but moan loudly as he felt a warm, wet sensation against his insides, his hands clenching spastically behind Peter’s back.

“Fuck,” Stiles couldn't help but summarise, his voice thick. This time he could feel Peter’s chest rumble with choked laughter, his mouth grinning against Stiles’ neck.

“That was the idea,” even as fucked out as they both were Stiles wasn't surprised that Peter would sound mostly like his usual smug self.

“Wow Creeperwolf, you must really be out of it, that was weak,” the teen couldn't help but tease, absently wondering how Peter was still coming -  he was still feeling new washes of warmth against his insides every now and then.

“Well, you are a rather spectacular fuck if I may say so,” this time Peter brought his head up to look the teen in the eyes. Stiles had to stop himself from catching his breath at the still faintly glowing ring of blue around the ‘were’s pupils, indicating the Peter’s wolf was still close to the surface. 

“You may,” Stiles couldn't help but leer up at the wolf. Peter snickers and presses a hungry kiss on Stiles’ mouth in reply. 

After roughly ten more minutes of heated necking Stiles has to come up for air (Peter probably could have kept going indefinitely, freaking werewolves) to ask “So, how long are gonna be stuck like this for? While I enjoy this very much, I kinda don't want dried come in some unmentionable places for the next week,” Making Peter snort and suddenly wrap his arms around Stiles just to smoothly maneuver them both so that their positions were switched with Peter laid underneath and Stiles laid upon the large expanse of his chest.

“For approximately another half an hour,” was his nonchalant reply.

“Dude, seriously?” Stiles made a face, definitely enough time for a dried come fiasco to happen then. 

“Yes, just enough time to see how many orgasms I can wring out you hmm?” Stiles froze in surprise as his eyes locked keenly onto Peter’s smirking face.

“Seriously?” the teens eyes were lit.

“Of course,” the were’s eyes flashed back at him.

“God, I fucking love you,”

* * *

 

Half an hour later, three more orgasms has been ripped out of Stiles (the teen wasn't ashamed to admit he’d cried), and when Peter’s knot had finally softened enough to come free, the ‘were had put Stiles on his stomach and eaten his ass out until he was sobbing (again). 

The pack was semi-horrified when they finally came home (Lydia just gave them an approving look and said that she’d known all along), but Stiles and Peter just gave them matching smirks that sent warning shivers down their spines. 

It was safe to say that there was talk of moving out and leaving Stiles and Peter the pack house to protect everyone’s (relative) purity.  

They stayed. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> please leave a kudos/ review on the way out!
> 
> come visit me on [my writing side blog](http://sinntowin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr to yell at me about headcanons/ talk kinky fanfic to me. i may be persuaded to write a lil something something for ya


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